Worship | All is Well

We Don’t Want the Burning Coal

March 27, 2023 By Shelly Durkee

(Over the past year, our church has begun to plan our worship services based on the structure found in Isaiah 6. This reflection is on the words found in Isaiah 6; verses 6 & 6.)

Surely others have experienced it.

That moment, in prayer, or in worship, when you realize just how much you do not deserve to stand before God’s throne.

That moment, in worship, when you can only look down, in shame, and not up, in reverence. Or awe. When you dare not look upon God.

When the floor is not low enough. When, you can sink no lower under the weight of shame and guilt and unworthiness.

I wonder if that is how Isaiah felt, in the scene recorded in Isaiah 6?

He has a vision—but I’m not sure that the word “vision” accurately captures the palpable real-ness of how he describes it. I envision completing my graduate degree. I envision my grandchildren growing up and knowing God. I envision writing a book some day. I envision ministering to those who are hurting – providing comfort (and hope!) from the comfort I have been given by God (2 Corinthians 1:3-5).

But those “visions” don’t seem anything like what Isaiah is standing in, in Isaiah 6. His vision seems so much more—real? Raw? Holy. And definitely not of his own making, unlike the things I listed above.

His vision seems to be that of not looking at God as if through a glass, darkly, but rather, face-to-face.

And, what he scribes, or what he dictates to the scribe, if that is the case, well—-you can almost hear it:

I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of his robe filled the temple. 2 Above him stood the seraphim. Each had six wings: with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. 3 And one called to another and said:

“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts;
the whole earth is full of his glory!”

4 And the foundations of the thresholds shook at the voice of him who called, and the house was filled with smoke.

You can almost hear the thunder.

Isaiah responds to this awful and overwhelming scene with the stark realization that where he is standing is holy..and moreso, he is in the presence of our holy God, and Isaiah, himself is the exact opposite of that holy-ness:

“Woe is me! For I am lost;for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!”

He recognizes his guilt. He recognizes his lostness in the seeing of the face of God. And he can not sink low enough.

Can you imagine? Can you even fathom?

And then…this happens:

Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a burning coal that he had taken with tongs from the altar. 7 And he touched my mouth and said: “Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for.”

I find it very interesting that what strangely purifies him in those moments is, of all things, a burning coal, from the altar. Placed to his lips. His wretched, unclean lips:

This burning coal, in this vision, is what takes away the guilt. It is what atones for Isaiah’s sin.

I don’t even begin to pretend to understand the symbolism involved in this passage. But, be that as it may, it still resonates, somehow. I understand Isaiah’s guilt and shame. And sense of unworthiness. We find echos in our own souls of Isaiah’s knowledge that his eyes have seen God, and he cannot look away fast enough. Or bow low enough. Woe. It is not unfamiliar.

But this is what strikes me….

In the ESV Study Bible, in the notes that describe this passage–this vision–this symbolism, the author of the notes writes this:

“The remedy of grace is personally applied.”

How astonishing is that?

The coal came from the altar, the location of the sacrifices made for the sin of the people. But then it was personally applied to Isaiah, through the fiery burning coal upon his unclean lips. “God’s holiness and glory now redemptively enter Isaiah’s experience.”

The remedy was redemption. And, in that moment, “God declares the remedy for Isaiah’s sin to be sufficient and instantly effective.”

Sufficient.
Effective.
Immediately.

We don’t want the burning coal. We don’t. I don’t. The burning coal is painful. It is messy. And, it is beyond my effort.

But there is no other way, except through the sacrifice of Christ. There is no other way, apart from atonement.

We cannot clean ourselves up, in order to stand before our Holy God. No, we need the remedy of grace, personally applied.

Only then can we stand before God, with our eyes raised. To see Him. Only then, can we agree with Isaiah “Here am I! Send me! Send me!” Only when we, ourselves, have experienced the personally applied grace of God, are we not only able to share that hope with the world….

…..we are compelled to.

The Gospel of Luke – An Invitation to Worship

December 6, 2019 By Shelly Durkee

The Christmas Story in Luke Invites us to Worship

I’ve returned to the study of Luke this year, in these advent weeks leading up to the celebration of Christ’s birth.

I love that God has given us the Christmas story, through the eyes of four very different story-tellers, in the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

Same Story.
Same Truth.
Same Hope.

The differences highlight to me the very historical realness in scripture. If all four gospels told the story of Jesus’ birth, in the exact, same, scripted manner, that would tarnish the authenticity of scripture. No, instead we have the same story, yet told from different angles:

Matthew – The Story of Jesus’ Birth is Grounded in History

Mark – The Need for our Repentance

John – We Can Have a Real Relationship with Jesus, who is God with Us

And Luke, who invites us to worship with him, as he retells those events so long ago, yet as fresh as the falling snow.

There are a couple of reasons why I feel drawn, once again, to the Luke Story passages. Of course, there is the nostalgia factor – the classic words that I can nearly repeat by heart after years of reading them to my children on Christmas Even, and hearing them recited during Children’s Christmas pageants, and Christmas concerts, and Christmas Eve Worship services, and Christmas Sunday sermons….

“And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn……And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night….And an angle of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear…..And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people….

…For unto you is born this day in the city of David a SAVIOR, who is CHRIST the LORD….”
(Excerpts from Luke 2)

But far more than the nostalgia of these warm, familiar words, is that call to worship….the draw to sit in wonder of this thing that God did for us, in sending His only son to earth as a baby – a helpless child – the God-man wrapped in the frailty of our humanity – fully God, yet fully man – as our Savior.

I hope to share some thoughts with you here, dear reader, as I walk through the chapters of Luke. I invite you to worship along with me, in the midst of our busy-ness of this season.

Keep Your Soul, Dilgently

October 24, 2016 By Shelly Durkee

I can sense when it happens. Most of the time, anyway.

Sometimes I miss it, until it suddenly dawns on me and I find myself scratching my head, a bit bewildered and asking myself, “Well, how the heck did I get here, yet again?”

But, most of the time, I can sense it.

It’s that slow slide away from what I know my mind and soul needs, in order to stay well. And focused. A gradual stepping away from that which keeps my soul focused on the only hope we know in this world. A letting down of my guard. A falling away from the spiritual and physical disciplines that stave off despair and, if I were to be honest, the shadowy, bony fingers of depression.

However, just because I sense it, doesn’t always mean that I take the necessary steps to arrest the spiral.

Maybe, just maybe, you can relate.

In the last couple of months, I have sensed this in my own mind and soul. I’ve tried to ignore it. I’ve brushed it off, because truly, life is good. There is no reason for the nagging discouragement and despair creeping into my mind. There isn’t. Not in the grand scheme of things.

But this is a battle that I have fought for a very long time. A very long time.

And, I know better, than to let my guard down.

I know better, than to shortcut the things I know help fight this battle:

Early morning study and prayer
Personal and corporate worship
Exercise
Healthy food choices
Routine, routine, routine
Caring well for others
Writing
Reading

When I shortchange these areas–when I convince myself that its “Ok” to stray from my daily routine, when I “excuse” myself from prayer and study early in the morning, when I decided that it won’t hurt anything to “skip” exercise for a day…..

…..that’s when despair raises its ugly head, once again.

And once despair gains even a small handhold, it’s grip is tight. And difficult to shake.

And that’s when my old friend and old nemesis of doubt sets back in.

I call it my “old friend”…not because doubt is a true friend, but because it is familiar. Comfortable. You’ve heard of people who say “We hadn’t seen each other in 10 years, but we picked up right where we left off, as if we just saw each other yesterday!” Yes. That is what “doubt” is, in my life.

Familiar. Comfortable, like a worn out security blanket.

But here’s the thing—doubt is also my dreadful nemesis….and when I don’t fight it, it penetrates my thoughts, starting off slowly, but quickly gathering speed.

I can go from “But why….” to full-fledged doubt of not only God’s love, but His very existence, in less than 60 seconds.

Earlier this evening, while sitting on outside on my deck, watching the first leaves of fall drifting down around me, I recognized that my soul, too, is in a season of fall. And I must fight, to stop its progression to the cold cynicism of winter.

This is not a new problem. It is not new to me, for sure. And it is not new to mankind. In Deuteronomy 4, we see Moses imploring with the Israelites to keep their souls and to remember all that they had seen the Lord do for them. And to their enemies. Moses reminded the people that they were in a covenant relationship with God, called to obedience. They were to remember, and teach their children…and their children’s children…all that the Lord had done.

9 “Only take care, and keep your soul diligently, lest you forget the things that your eyes have seen, and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life. Make them known to your children and your children’s children— (Deut. 4:9)

Do you see, though? Moses didn’t say “remember the things that God has done, in order to keep your soul diligently.

No, it was the other way around.

You may think that this is a trivial, minor, unimportant distinction. However, I do not. I think it is significant.

Because, when I do not keep my soul diligently, I arrogantly forget all that God has done for me.

When I do not keep my soul diligently through regular spiritual and physical disciplines, including study, and prayer, , and worship, and exercise, and rest, and caring well for others through service–when I do not keep my soul in those ways, then I slowly slide towards the erroneous belief that I don’t need God. I sinfully step closer to the edge of doubt and cynicism, thus forgetting the miraculous things I have witnessed as God’s adopted child–and that adoption via salvation being the most miraculous of all the many good and gracious and merciful things He has poured out on my soul and life.

And when I forget those things–and when I stand arrogantly in defiance and stomp my feet like a petulant two-year-old and say “I won’t!” or “I don’t want to pray!” or “I’m too tired!” or “But I don’t sense You, God, so why try?”—

–that’s when despair wins the first battle.

But this is a war. And defeat in one battle means a redoubling of efforts. It means regrouping and returning to measured discipline in order to have the fortitude to fight. It means dusting off the grime and getting back to work.

It means keeping my soul diligently.

Undone

August 28, 2016 By Shelly Durkee

We were ruined in Your presence
And tearing at the seams
Our eyes had gazed upon the King of kings

~ Undone, by Sovereign Grace

Undone.

I like that word.

It fills the space of trying to describe two very real things:

The state in which we all find ourselves, at one point or another, in life.

Surely, dear reader, you have found yourself undone, at one time or another. I know I have. I know that there have been times in my life, when I just could not possibly take another step. There were times in which my soul–if not my very mind–was so fractured and wrecked that I could not see past the next breath. I knew those moments as a child, facing the reality of evil for the first time. I knew those moments in the middle-of-the-night nightmares that steal my breath and sleep to this day. And, I absolutely knew that moment in the days following my husband’s arrest and subsequent sentencing. And, I have known the state of being undone since then, as I’ve walked this road of single parenting.

It’s terrifying.

It’s choking.

It’s exhausting.

It’s wrapped in a sense of hopelessness.

And, in those moments, it can be so very hard to sense God’s presence. To sense that He sees. And that He knows.

And, in those moments, it can also be very difficult to accept and trust His sovereignty.

But there is another definition, or application, to the beautiful word “Undone.”

You may be asking, first, how I can describe the word “Undone” as being beautiful, in light of the list above. Terror, and exhaustion, and hopelessness–those are not “beautiful” words.

And I would agree with you. You are right. They are not beautiful words. They are hard words that create chaos in our lives, and in the lives of those we love. But there truly is a sense in which being “Undone” can be a beautiful thing…..

……because, when we become “Undone”–when everything is stripped away in a Job-like manner and there is nothing left, and when we recognize that truly, we are Undone, it is then–and only then–do we see that He is our only hope.

And in those moments–our “Undone-ness” shifts much like the earth shifts, in the midst of an earthquake.

Our “Undone-ness” shifts from being “Undone” by the terrifying darkness, to being “Undone” by and before the One who is the only light that dispels that darkness, as we learn in John 1:4-5:

⁴In him was life, and the life was the light of men. ⁵The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

It’s that moment when we recognize that He, alone, in His sovereignty, not only sees the circumstances that threaten to bring us to a state of being undone and unable to take another step, let alone that next breath–He sees that. And knows. And grieves on our behalf.

And then, He acts.

Maybe not in the way we wish He would. He is not Santa Claus. He is not some Genie in a Bottle. We wouldn’t worship Him, if He were! We are selfish, sinful creatures. We would make out our self-centered, selfish Wish List, much like we did each year as children, when the Sears Christmas Catalog would appear in our mailboxes in November: and we would never be satisfied.

No, He may not give us what we beg Him for.

He may not take away the nightmares.

He may not take away the chronic illness. Or the cancer. Or repair the marriage. Or provide you with that better-paying job.

But–oh, my soul–He is not idle. He does not abandon. He does not sit in silence, though it most certainly seems to be that way sometimes.

He does not forsake.

But He does demand that we trust Him. He does demand that we worship Him. He does demand that we acknowledge that He. Is. God.

And we are not.

And, when we come to the end of ourselves, and bring our undone souls to the foot of His throne, He then does exactly what the lyrics from the song “Undone” by Sovereign Grace tells us He will do:

But You were rich in mercy
To provide what You demand
And now on Christ, the solid rock, we stand

We have not the ability to exercise faith that He is who He says He is, apart from His mercy to provide that faith to us. We have not the ability to worship Him, apart from His mercy to put the song of worship in our souls and upon our lips. And we have not the ability to acknowledge who He is, apart from His mercy to show us He is God.

And, in those moments–we become Undone by who He is.

(To purchase this and other great worship resources, please visit this site: Sovereign Grace Music)